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Samantha Pearson and James Houston couldn’t be less alike. Samantha is a quiet, bookish journalist, and James is a cocky police officer that she must interview for the story of a lifetime. James and his antics irritate Samantha on the surface, but at the same time, they excite her in a way that suggests deep-seated psychological issues. Who knows what could happen? Only time will tell.

When Samantha’s boss asks her to cover a series of robberies in downtown Seattle, she is thrilled beyond the belief – finally, the story of a lifetime. She sees it as the chance to finally prove that she is a serious journalist and break away from fluff pieces, like cat shows and social events. What she doesn’t expect is that she would meet James Houston – a reckless, rowdy cop who takes the law into his own hands.

James is rugged and dirty, almost as if he hasn’t showered in days, and that’s probably because he hasn’t. He is a little bit pudgy and has a lot of body hair, which is excellent because it makes up for all of the hair he’s missing on the top of his head. Samantha asks him about his involvement in the case and he is distant and sarcastic, refusing to give her a straight answer that she can use as a quote in her story. This frustrates her to no end, and at the same time his unwillingness to answer her questions honestly and accurately is truly arousing to her. Samantha loves to chase what she can’t have, and James hasn’t had sex in a really long time.

Before she knows it, the two of them are back in her apartment. Well, really, it’s not a surprise at all because she called him twenty-seven times and left him voicemails, lying to him and begging him for an interview at her house, leaving out the part where she was planning on seducing him.

It was a completely unexpected and unpredictable pairing of two very unappealing, single people. Clearly, it was about to be a very steamy, sexy night for the both of them.

James sauntered into Samantha’s apartment, obviously irritated that he was there in the first place. Samantha welcomed him in much too eagerly, setting the tone for the rest of the night. It was raining outside, and James was dripping from head to toe. The pair gazed into one another’s eyes, and for a split second, Samantha sensed the heat of fiery passion between them that she was certain James must have felt too. Her intuition proved correct when he eventually broke the eye contact and said, “Man, it’s a lot warmer in here than it is outside, huh?” while ripping off his jacket from his unchiseled body. Samantha stared, wide-eyed and for approximately seven seconds, partially excited because he was already starting to undress, and partially depressed because this was the best she was ever going to get. James scoffed and pushed past her, lightly grazing her butt as he sauntered over to her couch without waiting to be invited in. Samantha thought his initiative was sexy.

Samantha walked over to her stereo as seductively as she possibly could, tripping on her stacks of Better Homes and Gardens but pulling it off by making a growling noise that suggested she actually did it on purpose because the sexy animal inside of her was starting to take over. She put on her lovemaking music – Sarah MacLachlan’s “In the Eyes of an Angel.” She knew that this was the night that she was finally going to lose her virginity.

James laughed at her song choice, remarking that it was “the song from those stupid animal commercials that ask you to save those dumb reject cats.” Samantha forced a chuckle and held back tears, silently hoping that her cats wouldn’t make too much noise in the second bedroom of her apartment, where they lived in a kitty wonderland that she had spent thousands of dollars furnishing. “Yeah, those are really dumb commercials,” she said, producing her most vixen-like guffaw, certain that her femininity would draw James in before the interview even started. James stared off into the distance, the boredom being conveyed by his dull, brown eyes practically cutting through the tension that was quickly descending upon the room.

James quickly transitioned from amusement to discomfort when he realized that Samantha was not actually playing this song as a joke, and Samantha misread his shifting in his seat as an eagerness to move from the couch to the bedroom. “Oh, you’re eager, aren’t you?” she whispered softly.

“What?” James retorted, unable to hear what she had said, because she was whispering from across the room and Sarah MacLachlan was still blaring.

“Oh, you heard me,” Samantha whispered, interpreting his inability to hear her as a coy game. Before Samantha could stop herself, she was on the couch next to him, breathing heavily because she wasn’t used to moving quickly. James didn’t move away from her, and she knew that that meant he wanted her too. The heat from his body passed from his body to hers, and she prayed that the condensation covering his body was merely rain and not sweat. She knew deep down it wasn’t, but Samantha sighed and deeply inhaled his manly musk – a combination of body odor and Axe, which was easily her sixth favorite scent for a male.

Samantha reached down, searching for his flaccid penis underneath the roll of stomach fat that covered it like an ever-present blanket. James didn’t move out of the way or push her off the couch, making him the most receptive sexual partner that Samantha had ever had. Samantha moaned in ecstasy, wanting James to know just how much she wanted him. Samantha finally located his small, veiny penis and moved to unzip his ill-fitting corduroys. She struggled, because James was doing nothing to help her. She knew that this was because he was playing hard to get – a tactic that she was no stranger to. But James was here, partially against his own will, and there was no way he was leaving before at least one of them experienced some kind of pleasure.

“Well, I guess this is okay,” James murmured, his slight lisp tantalizing her and making her want him all the more. James leaned back on the couch. “Could you at least turn off that shit? It’s almost as big of a woodkiller as your fucking greasy hair.”

Samantha knew he was kidding about the hair, so she got up to turn off the CD player. She prided herself on not tripping over her magazines and began taking off her own clothing, since she knew James probably wasn’t going to. She removed her baggy “I Love Waffles” shirt and turned off the CD player, walking back to the couch in absolute silence. James sat motionless and refused to speak, so Samantha knew that meant he wanted her to talk dirty. She whispered in his ear, trying to remember high school Spanish that she could use to seduce him. She couldn’t remember anything other than “Tortilla,” so she said that as attractively as possible and licked his ear afterwards because she had read that that was a pretty sensitive spot.

“So are you going down on me are what? CSI is on in like half an hour,” James said, pleading with Samantha to take him before he exploded with desire. The sudden plea for sexual satisfaction was more than Samantha could handle, and she led James into the bedroom, prepared for him to rock her world in ways that she had never experienced before.

Samantha threw herself down on the bed and surrendered herself to James, who took his time walking over to the mattress, adorned with images of felines and covered in cat hair. Samantha screamed, “Take me now, you animal!” And James consented, unenthusiastically saying, “Okay, fine, whatever.”

Samantha moaned. James laughed at her, saying, “What the hell? I’m not even inside of you yet.” Samantha tried to share the joke, knowing full well that he was not laughing with her. James began thrusting, his small member not yet hard and barely able to make contact with Samantha’s body. He pulled away, embarrassed by his inability to get a boner and mumbled, “Well, maybe if you were a little hotter.” Samantha began to growl again and James immediately told her to be quiet, began visualizing Olivia Wilde, and was able to finally achieve an erection.

James’ small penis was barely able to satisfy Samantha, but she overcompensated with enthusiasm and knew that James was the one man that she was meant to be with. James was blowing her mind and changing her life. She pressed up against his overweight, girthy frame, unsure of whether or not James was actually inside of her anymore. James finished in less than thirty seconds and rolled over to the side of the bed, avoiding eye contact and refusing to spoon with her. He quickly put his briefs back on and jammed his body back into his pants, preparing to leave and never look back.

Samantha gazed over at the first man she had ever been intimate with, sighing with satisfaction and amazement at the fact that she had gone to bed with a police officer. James wondered if he was going to miss the first five minutes of CSI, which were always his favorite because he loved looking at the dead bodies.

“When am I going to see you again?” Samantha implored, certain that she had found love at last in the most unlikely of places.

“Um, probably not any time soon,” James mumbled as he left her apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Samantha ached with desire, knowing that he was once again playing hard to get and eagerly anticipating their next excursion.